


Give Me Something I Can Chew

by orphan_account



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alpha Michael, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Blood, Breeding, Come Inflation, Deception, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hand Feeding, Knotting, Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Mallory, Outpost 3, Overstimulation, Pregnancy Kink, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20317378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael gives Mallory a choice. She makes a decision that will determine her future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plot and characters of American Horror Story: Apocalypse belong to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.
> 
> All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> If you don't know anything about A/B/O dynamics check out this link https://victoriavanessahazel.tumblr.com/post/133825915114/abo-for-dummies-fanfic-trope-explained

“You there, Gray. Stop your scrubbing. Mr. Langdon requests your presence in the dining hall,” Ms. Venable snaps.

Mallory looks at her in frustration over the frames of her black glasses. Pre-heat left her short-tempered and irritable. She’d used up the last of the Outpost’s small stock of suppressants last month. "Are you serious?” she says flatly. 

Venable’s narrowed eyes have her own dropping to the floor.

“I don’t answer to you, Omega. You may think that you’re special because of whatever accident of nature brought you into this world, but I have no use for wanton whores. If people’s sensibilities weren’t so delicate, I would have slaughtered you by now so we could feast on your sow flesh.”

Mallory feels the words like the lash of a whip. She thinks of the stew that was Stu. Venable smirks at her shiver of fear. “Now do as you’re told.” 

Mallory abandons her bucket of soapy water and skitters off down the hallway past the kitchen.

She hates the part of herself that craves the Beta’s approval. Venable’s a frigid old bitch with delusions of grandeur, but she’d been the closest thing to an Alpha in the Outpost before Mr. Langdon’s arrival. 

Mallory hasn’t seen the man since that first night when he’d gathered them all in the library. The power of his presence and his scent had alerted her to his Alpha status immediately. The Betas, having less sensitive noses, were slower to clue in. She'd been amazed. She'd thought that maybe they all died out.

To her disappointment and relief, he hadn't looked at her once during the meeting.

She knows that he’s started interviewing the Purples—had seen the devastation in Coco's face after her time in his office—but she hadn't known that Grays were being considered for placement too.

She doesn’t dare to hope that she would be selected. She’s wired wrong, has always subverted society’s expectations for Omegas. Before the bombs dropped, she'd been more interested in establishing her financial independence than looking for a mate. 

Not that she'd had any offers anyway. 

Alpha’s spurned her flat-chested appearance and lack of birthing hips. Beta’s disliked her scent, pronouncing her too sweet for their bland palates. Worst of all were the other Omegas. They’d thought her tainted; an insult to their gender. 

\--

Mallory doesn’t know what to expect when she reaches the entrance to the dining hall. She raps her knuckles on one of the large doors and waits. A faint "come in" has her pushing her way through.

What she finds on the other side is surprising. The long table that she has never had the privilege of sitting at is covered with a cornucopia of delights: apples with unblemished skin, a roast chicken glistening with fat and fresh bread with a golden crust. A bowl of strawberries—whole and ripe—sits at the elbow of the Alpha at the head of the table. 

“Come along, Mallory. No need to loiter,” Langdon murmurs, starting off into the flames dancing across the room. Mallory doesn’t know how he can stand to look away from the feast in front of him.

She pulls out a chair kitty-corner to his own and sinks into the seat. Hands folded neatly in her lap, she waits for the questions to begin.

She couldn't say how long it takes, but, eventually, Langdon loses interest in the fire and turns toward her. Azure eyes narrow in confusion. “Will you not eat?”

Mallory’s lips part at the rich tone of his voice. It’s been so long since she’s been in the company of an Alpha. She’d forgotten the force of their personalities and the intensity that radiates from the centre of their beings.

“I—I didn’t know I was allowed to, Sir," she squeaks. She clears her throat. "If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get all of this?” She gestures with a small hand at the spread in front of them. 

The corner of his mouth quirks at her question. “This is a small selection of the things we’ve managed to preserve at the Sanctuary.” He picks up a green apple and holds it out to her in the palm of a ringed hand. “You must be hungry, go ahead.”

He’s right, she's starving. Pre-heat hunger pangs have her grabbing the apple and biting down with ravenous greed. The crunch of her teeth through the skin and pulp is intoxicating.

Frenzied, Mallory sets the apple down and reaches for the bread. Juice lingers at the corner of her mouth as she tears into the crumb like a savage.

“Yes,” Langdon breathes. “And the meat next.”

The words remind Mallory of Venable’s threat. She drops the bread that's turned to ash on her tongue. “It’s poisoned.”

The Alpha chuckles at her declaration. “What a silly thing to say. Why ever would you think that?”

Assuaged by his humour, Mallory swallows her mouthful. She chooses her words carefully. “Pardon me, Sir. I was mistaken.” 

Blond brows raise in disbelief. “You needn’t worry about Ms. Venable, Mallory. She won’t be a problem for much longer.”

Mallory gulps at his perception of her thoughts. “Are you going to kill her?” 

“No, stupid girl. Because we leave for the Sanctuary tomorrow." 

At her look of confusion, Langdon explains, “we’re in short supply of Omegas. The Cooperative can’t build a new world without breeders. Surely you understand.”

Horror dawns in Mallory’s mind. “So I’m to be used as a broodmare. A womb for the Cooperative to use and dispose of as they please,” she bites.

“At this juncture,” Langdon allows. “Unless you’d like to apply for a different position?” He purses his plush lips invitingly and Mallory hates how her hormones react to the sight. “I could use an assistant with your..._moxie_.”

Dread keeps her from stabbing him with a fork. “And how do I apply?”

Langdon's smile is mirthless. He pushes his designer boots into the floor and moves his chair back from the table with a screech. Leaning into the wood at his back, he opens his legs, his black pants pulling taught over the trim muscle of his thighs.

“Come here.”

Mallory’s mind flicks over her options: whelp the next generation and die a used shell of a person or give in to this Alpha’s whims. The choice is easy.

She steels herself for whatever degradation is about to take place and strides forward. Her sanity is worth more than one blow job.

Before she can sink to her knees in front of him, however, Langdon says, “let down all that lovely hair of yours.”

She hesitates for only a moment before pulling the pins out of the horrendous bun she's required to wear with her uniform. Light caramel strands fall around her face and shoulders. Langdon appears captivated as he raises a hand to card through the length. “Like silk,” he murmurs absently.

The Omega part of Mallory’s brain is thrilled by the praise. It wants her to get down on all fours and present herself to the alpha in the room. Langdon is the perfect candidate for a mate. Beautiful and obviously intelligent, he’d sire strong children.

Mallory shakes off the thought, but not fast enough to stop arousal from slicking her up between her thighs. She hates this. Hates that she becomes a mindless animal without drugs to suppress her body's urges.

Langdon releases the ends of her hair that he’d wrapped around his fist. “Turn around and sit in my lap.”

It’s as awkward as expected when she moves between his legs and perches on one thigh. She wiggles around for a moment looking for a comfortable position and gets a lungful of his scent. _Fuck_. His musk is overpowering this close up. He smells warm and spicy. She catches notes of cinnamon, leather and wood.

Langdon moves his mouth to her ear. “Don’t look so grim, Omega. I can smell your dribbling cunt from here.”

His blue eyes are dark with lust when Mallory turns her head. She bares her teeth at him. “Fuck you.”

“Not today,” he hums. He holds her close with one arm around her waist. The other he extends to pluck a strawberry from the bowl on the table.

He brings the berry up to Mallory’s face and presses it against her lips. “Eat.”

She can't stop her moan of appreciation at her first bite of the sour-sweet fruit. Langdon traces a finger down her chin and over the skin of her neck as she swallows; entranced with the movement of her throat. With a measured pace, he feeds her another. And another.

By the fourth strawberry, Mallory finds herself seizing his hand and licking the red juice from his fingers. She swirls her tongue around the ring on his pinky finger and pulls off of the digit with a pop. She would be embarrassed, but Langdon hasn’t taken his eyes off of her. She can feel the hard length of his cock prodding her through his slacks.

He keeps feeding her.

Mallory has the last berry between her teeth when Langdon tucks his nose behind her ear. He inhales deep and groans. “Hungry girl. This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

The affection in his tone has Mallory pressing back into his warmth and letting out a purr of contentment.

The hand-feeding is soothing her addled mind, quieting the urge to nourish herself for her coming heat, but the attention Langdon's lavishing on her has other urges rising to the fore.

His fingers had felt so good in her mouth—long and lightly callused, encircled by cool metal. She wonders how they’d feel elsewhere. 

Like he’s read her mind, Langdon whispers, “what else does my hungry girl need?”

Want soaks the cotton of Mallory’s panties and has her squirming against his erection at her back.

“Please, Alpha,” she whines, eyes squeezed shut in mortification. "I-I need..."

Langdon growls and grazes the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “Spread your legs wide for me."

Mallory lets her knees fall open at the command. He pulls the skirt of her dress up and trails one hand along her inner thigh, brushing her sensitive skin until she feels like she’s going to combust. She whimpers loudly at the first touch of his fingers to her underwear. 

“So needy for me Omega. You’re already drenched.” Langdon pulls aside the wet fabric and teases her entrance with a fingertip. “Do you want me inside?”

“Yes,” Mallory pants. “Yes, I want you, Alpha. Please, _inside_.”

“Then take my fingers into your slick little cunt.”

Mallory has no choice. She obeys.

Bucking her hips wildly, she fucks herself on the two fingers Langdon presses into her core. 

“Good girl," he praises and Mallory feels another rush of wetness. Pleased, he adds another finger and rotates his hand. Mallory cries out as her walls contract around him.

Langdon gives another rumbly groan. “So tight for me. I’d give anything to feel you squeeze around my knot.”

_Yes, yes, his knot._ Mallory’s body aches for it. “Make me come, Alpha. Please!”

He ignores her. Refuses to do more than twist his hand. Desperation has her continuing to work herself toward the brink. She snaps her hips sharply and angles them so that his fingers stir deep.

Blond hair tickles the side of her face and mingles with her own brown locks. “You would do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you? My greedy girl.”

Mallory makes unintelligible sounds. Langdon owns her in this moment, wholly and completely.

Thought's scattered by her pleasure, she finds herself wondering how things will be at the Sanctuary. Has she pleased him enough to escape the breeding roster? Will he keep her for himself? Fuck her during her heat?

Her gut tightens and she fucks herself faster. 

She imagines him impaling her on his cock as his fingers make a beckoning gesture against her most sensitive spot.

_Oh god_.

Her walls start to flutter as Langdon says, “that’s it, let me give you what you need.” 

The rasp of his palm over her clit has her crashing over the edge. She comes with a sob as his teeth graze her neck. _Picking a spot for a bonding mark_, her brain supplies hazily.

Langdon coos nonsense words into her hair and Mallory feels herself go fuzzy at the edges. Vaguely, she considers what it might be like to be bonded to a Cooperative agent. It can’t be any worse than death threats and spending her heats locked in her room alone. 

Can it?

_We’ll see what tomorrow brings _is her last thought before she dozes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](https://crossdressingpirate.tumblr.com/) to scream about Millory with me on Tumblr <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own.

The morning after their interlude in the dining room, Mallory wakes alone in what she assumes are Langdon’s private quarters. A note, short and to the point, has been left on the nightstand. Elegant cursive (of course the bastard would have fancy writing) instructs her to ready herself for their journey and wait for him there. 

At a loss for anything else to do, she obeys. She luxuriates in the opportunity to use the spacious en-suite bathroom and to dress herself in something other than her itchy wool uniform. A post script, more hastily scrawled, indicates that she's free to raid Langdon's closet until a new wardrobe is procured for her.

Fresh out of the shower, she shifts through the clothing hanging in the wardrobe and pauses on a merlot coloured button up shirt. She digs her fingers into the smooth fabric and brings it to her face, drawn in by the ripple of colour in the candlelight. She doesn’t even realize that she’s buried her nose in the material until she hears herself huffing deep lungfuls of air.

The whiff of Alpha she gets from the fabric simultaneously makes her core burn with desire and blankets her with a strange calm. It's...familiar? Like it's something she's been smelling all her life and she just couldn't identify it until now. 

_Fuck_. She needs to get a grip. The scent she’s savouring belongs to a man who threatened to give her over to a breeding program yesterday. He might have said some pretty words to her while he was bringing her off on his fingers, but that doesn’t mean that they’ll hold true in the harsh candlelight of another day in this hell hole. 

Angry at herself for her lapse in judgement, Mallory rips the garment off of its hangar and pulls it on roughly over her head. It’s long enough to almost reach her knees, looking more like a dress than a shirt on her tiny frame. Folding up the sleeves with rough jerks, she settles back on the bed to wait with her shoulders against the headboard. She fixes her eyes, narrowed in a steely, no bullshit gaze, on the door. Constant vigilance and all that. 

\--

Fingertips stroking over her cheekbone pull her out of a light doze. Mallory blinks her eyes open and sees Langdon frowning down at her. She barely gets a chance to think _Alpha _and _looming _before he’s bending down and crowding her against the wood at her back.

He pushes a ringed finger into her chest and slides it down to pull at the V between the collar of the shirt she’s wearing. When he reaches the top button, he lets his hand hang and gazes intently at her face. “You smell like me,” he says. It's sounds like an accusation.

_Well, yeah. Duh?_

“Wha-? Yes, probably,” Mallory stutters. He’s hard to look at this close up. All she can think about is the feeling of his hands on her flesh. His fingers moving inside of her. 

Langdon's nostrils flare and his blue eyes glint with something almost vulnerable. He moves his face close enough for his nose to brush hers. “My little Omega,” he says softly. “My own.”

Mallory doesn’t really know what happens next except that suddenly she’s got a grip on his hair and her face is buried in his neck. She inhales likes she’s been drowning and without air for days. Panting open mouthed against his warm, spicy skin she recognizes that she’s doing a really shitty job of keeping her head around this Alpha.

Langdon is practically vibrating in her arms under the attention. His muscles tense as his chest emanates a deep, rumbling purr. Sirens go off in Mallory's head. They scream **_"danger, danger, this predator's interested."_**

“Oh my god,” she gasps. She pulls back and rips her hands away from his blond locks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

Langdon raises a hand to brush over the wet patch on his neck, right where her mouth had been, and then reaches for her face. He pushes his thumb hard into her bottom lip and presses inward so that his nail scratches over her teeth. “No need to apologize,” he tells her. “Your heat must be coming on sooner than expected.” His eyes are as distant and cool as an alpine lake again.

Gesturing at a plate on the desk near the door he says, “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing you breakfast. We leave as soon as you've finished.” 

Mallory scoots off the side of the bed opposite to him and moves over to the desk. The sight of more delicious bread and a dish of golden honey nearly brings her to her knees. _Holy fucking shit! _she thinks. _How advanced is this Sanctuary that they’ve got apiaries?_

“Honey,” she whispers disbelievingly, sitting at the desk and falling on the plate. The first bite of rich brown bread with sugary sweetness is extraordinary. Mallory takes her time, dipping little morsels and letting them melt on her tongue.

She gets so engrossed in the pleasure of eating that she doesn’t see Langdon move. Suddenly, the Alpha's pulling her sticky fingers, bereft of more food, up to his face. The wet heat and gentle suction of his mouth around her fingertips has Mallory releasing a moan into the room. _Crap on a cracker_. Her folds grow slick and goosebumps raise along her skin. She’s sweating.

Langdon's right. Her heat’s settling in. If her symptoms—constant arousal, hunger, fever—continue to develop at their current rate, this time tomorrow she’ll be nothing but a shivering ball of sweat and slick.

Langdon finishes removing every trace of honey from her fingers and drops her hand abruptly as though scalded. He blinks a few times, regaining his senses, and cocks his head, listening to something far away. “It’s time to go,” he announces, expression tight.

Mallory’s not sure what the rush is, but she stands from her chair anyway. 

An arm wraps around her upper body unexpectedly, tipping her back, while another comes around the back of her knees. With seemingly no effort, Langdon sweeps her up in a bridal carry and cradles her against his chest.

Bewildered, she wraps her arms around his neck and protests lightly, “but won’t I need my shoes?”

Langdon casts a scathing look at the black loafers lined up neatly by the bed. “Definitely not.”

The muted sound of screaming leaks under the bedroom door. They’re gone then, blinking out of space and time.

The sudden transition to incorporeal and back again leaves Mallory’s gut and head spinning. When she gets a hold of her stomach, she looks around and sees that they’re standing in what looks like an underground parking garage.

“Jesus Christ,” Mallory breathes, heart thumping an alarmed rhythm in her chest. “What was that? What just happened at the Outpost?” She cranes her neck around and looks up at Langdon. The shadows of the underground facility throw the planes and hollows of his face into sharp relief. A wraith gazes down at her, smug and amused by her use of blasphemy.

“Only necessary death," he tells her. "Messy business. It was best for us to leave.”

Mallory swallows hard and strains against Langdon's hold on her, dropping her arms from around his neck to push against his chest. “Put me down!” she snaps. She wants to be as far away from this psycho as possible. 

“Oh, Mallory,” Langdon tuts, flexing his hands, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The harsh bite of his fingers into her arm and thigh are enough to quell her squirming. “You used to be a bit of a hick, right? Grew up in Louisiana, right on the swamp?” He doesn’t give her a chance to answer. “Then you’ll probably know this one even if I take artistic liberties.” Langdon clears his throat. “The devil’s son went down to an Outpost in California, looking for an Omega to steal. He was in a bind, ‘cause he was way behind producing an heir, and he lied to make a deal," he sing-songs.

Extra syllables aside, the message is clear. Mallory shivers in fear even as her body temperature grows higher. “There’s no breeding program is there?”

Langdon smirks. “No Omega, there’s not. But I certainly am in need of a breeder.” He inhales her scent deeply. “Someone suitable to carry my heirs. It was so considerate of you to submit that 23 and Me test before the bombs dropped. Poor little orphan Mallory, looking for her real family. That must have been a real blow to your adoptive mother, Cordelia. Almost as disappointing as your less than orthodox personality.”

Remembering the hurt in Cordelia’s eyes when she'd found the envelope for the DNA test in the trash drives a knife between Mallory’s ribs. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye before Coco crammed her and Gallant in a car and drove them to the airport, ranting about tickets to some secret outpost. Mallory blinks back tears and stares defiantly at Langdon’s mocking face. “What the fuck are you?”

He laughs, “why darling, I’m the antichrist. But you can call me Michael.” He strides forward then, coming to a stop in front of steel elevator doors. “Be a dear and push the button for me,” he asks.

Woodenly, she reaches out an arm and stabs the call button which illuminates a cheery orange. Apparently, the Sanctuary has electricity. 

When the car arrives, Langdon, _Michael_, carries her into the metal box and leans toward a retinal scanner. Identity verified, a computerized voice chirps a greeting from a speaker box and asks ‘Master Langdon’ where he’d like to go. “Private quarters,” he says, voice low and clipped.

The downward lurch of the elevator is enough to have Mallory's fingernails scrabbling against the fine knit of his jacket. She’s not sure how far down they sink, but she counts to forty-five before the elevator comes to a stop. “Are you Hades then?" she asks churlishly. "Have we actually descended into Hell?” 

Michael steps out into a grey vestibule, scans his eye again and smiles as a door slides open to their left. “Not quite.”

The bastard pauses at the threshold and gazes at her meaningfully. “I do hope you’ll grow to like our quarters, Mallory. You won’t be leaving them until you're fat and swollen with my child. We don’t want any unmated Alphas in the Cooperative getting ideas.”

“You manipulative asshole,” Mallory says lividly. She grits her teeth and swings her head around, taking in the details of her would-be prison. “What is this place anyway?”

Concrete pillars run through the open concept space. Plants—green leaves, flowers and vines—rise up from mounds of earth at the base of the supports and reach towards hexagonal ceiling tiles lit from behind with some kind of UV light. In the white/blue glow of the room, Mallory can see a fairly standard apartment with a living area separated by metal bookshelves from a kitchen done in soothing white and light woods.

Michael doesn’t break his stride through the apartment, but answers, “the Sanctuary is a multi-tiered bunker, built with six-foot thick concrete walls to keep us safe from radiation in the soil. NASA inventors installed solar collection dishes on the surface that harvest what sunshine there is and distribute it throughout the underground network via fibre-optic cables.”

“So that’s how you’re growing food,” she says with understanding. “And the bees are pollinating your crops for you.” 

Blue eyes gleam at her approvingly. “_Very _good, Omega.”

Mallory feels her cheeks flush at the praise and can’t decide if she hates herself or Michael more intensely. Michael takes a right into a bedroom dominated by a large bed piled with duvets and pillows. Mallory clocks the shape of a bathtub through a doorway on the far wall before she’s dropped unceremoniously in the center of the mattress.

As she’s regaining her center of balance, Michael runs a hand along her brow, swiping up a drop of sweat. “You’re burning up,” he says. “Why don’t you rest? I have some business to attend to before your heat. Help yourself to anything in the apartment, but don’t try to leave. The locks won’t respond to you.”

“Fuck you,” Mallory hisses, brown eyes narrowed. “You’re a despicable piece of shit.”

Instead of getting angry, Michael gets even. He slides his gaze from her eyes to her neck and brings his mouth to her pulse point. Sharp teeth press threateningly against her skin. Michael’s tongue slips out to lick over her flesh, tasting her. Mallory breathes heavily at the sensation, aroused and terrified of the strength in his jaws. “You’ve had a long morning,” Michael purrs. “You’re lucky to have an Alpha so understanding that you’re not at your best.” 

Try as she might, Mallory can’t fight the wave of shame that rolls over her. A low whine pitches in her throat. “I’m sorry, Alpha,” she whispers, dropping her eyes to the bed spread. The automatic submission has her clenching her back teeth.

A true asshole, Michael smiles and says, “that’s my good girl.”

Cupping her face with his hands, he takes her mouth roughly with his. The low level of need simmering under Mallory's skin bubbles over at the press of their lips. Suddenly it’s her who’s the aggressor, the one forcing her way into his mouth. In her enthusiasm, she accidentally bites down on Michael’s bottom lip, drawing blood.

Sweet wine explodes across Mallory's tongue.

She’s back to clutching at him then, sucking on his lip like a desperate babe.

Fingers wrapped in cool metal pry her hands away from his jacket. Michael leans back and pulls his lip from her mouth with a wet pop. His eyes are completely black.

The sight of those onyx orbs, and the way that Michael barely seems to be holding himself back, shakes the haze from Mallory’s consciousness once again.

“Rest,” the Alpha commands, standing tall and rolling his shoulders. With that, he pivots on one foot and retreats from the room.

Hot humiliation rises in Mallory. She feels compelled to stay in the bed, but knows that she should be formulating a plan for escape.

Doubt niggles at her as she recalls everything that she's seen of the Sanctuary thus far. Where would she even go if she did get out? Michael destroyed the Outpost. She doesn’t even know where in the world they are right now. 

Not seeing any other option, Mallory resigns herself to the long-con. She’ll earn Michael’s trust, bond with him if thats what he wants, and learn about this place. There’s no guarantee that he’ll get her up the duff on the first try anyway.

Assured in the knowledge that she hasn’t given up all hope, Mallory feels better about indulging her Omega urges. Her heat's coming. She has to accept the facts. Her body’s readying itself for the nearest Alpha whether she likes it or not. It would be wise of her to recoup for the days ahead. 

Laying down on the bed, she closes her eyes and lets her mental and emotional exhaustion lull her into a nap. 

A few hours later, Mallory wakes in a flop sweat. Hair sticks to her forehead and her borrowed shirt clings uncomfortably to her back and chest. Struggling to peel the garment off, she wriggles her hips and feels slick dribble down her inner thighs.

Yanking the fabric over her head feels like sweet freedom.

Pushing up on her hands, she slides off of the bed and struggles to her feet.

Something doesn’t feel right. Her head's all fuzzy.

She’s missing something.

Someone.

Staggering drunkenly to the kitchen, Mallory pulls open the refrigerator door and gasps at the feel of cold air against her skin. A flash of red catches her eyes. _Berries_.

Her brain lights up with glee.

Mallory stuffs a fistful of fruit in her mouth and grabs more of the sliced strawberries with her free hand. Juice trickles down her chin, painting her skin sticky sweet with red. 

Her hunger is sated for the moment, but something still isn’t right.

She flares her nostrils, scanning for clues, and catches a whiff of something intoxicating floating on the air.

Following her nose, she drags herself back to the bedroom and sniffs along the wall to the left of the door. She finds a small groove in a wall panel three feet across the room and sticks her fingers into it.

A quick jerk of her hand has a pocket-door sliding open to reveal a walk-in closet.

The scent that she's chasing is strongest here.

Creeping into the dark space, Mallory takes her time pushing her face into the clothes hanging along the racks. When she reaches the back corner of the closet, she sets her fistful of berries on the floor and reaches up to grab greedy handfuls of fabric.

Shirts, pants and an assortment of ties are pulled down from the neat shelves and arranged in a loose nest.

Satisfied with her placement of each object, Mallory crawls into the middle of the pile and rubs herself against her treasures, covering herself with that spicy scent. 

She presses her face into a pair of pants and purrs, content.

Her teeth and core ache.

When her fruit is all gone, Mallory soothes herself by nibbling at the skin of her forearm.

It’s not enough.

Her skin prickles all over in protest of this torture; in longing.

The soft tread of feet echoes in her ears then. Mallory freezes and lets out a warning growl.

Light spills into her corner from outside of the closet before a familiar shadow moves in front of it. _Alpha_, her brain supplies.

Mallory growls again and bares her teeth.

Michael laughs, “looks like you’ve been busy making yourself a little nest.” He moves closer to her and kneels down. Faster than Mallory can react, he grabs a hold of the back of her head and forces her face into his neck.

Nose pushed into Michael's skin, Mallory breathes deep and recognizes her captor as the one that she’s been waiting for.

This one, this Alpha, Michael.

“_Mine_,” she says, her voice raw with need.

“Yesss,” Michael hisses in her ear. He grips her waist and pulls her out of her blankets and into his lap.

Lust filled eyes scorch Mallory's naked body like a brand.

“Look at my little Omega," her Alpha coos. "So flushed and hungry for my cock."

Mallory feels her muscles relax at Michael’s approving tone. Any lingering reluctance to leave her nest flees at the feel of the hardness that rubs between her thighs as she shifts her weight over the front of his slacks.

Instinct has Mallory opening her mouth wide and marking Michael’s neck. His long hair tickles her nose as she clamps her jaws tightly over his jugular and grinds her slit over his cock. She hears her Alpha gasp and smells the precome that stains his pants in response to her bite and the perfume of her slick.

Michael hoists her up in his arms and walks them over to the bed.

When he lays her down, Mallory fights like a wild cat for the dominant position and loses. Michael presses one big hand to her belly and pins her flat.

Mallory growls at him viciously and earns a stinging bite to her chest.

The teeth marks on either side of her nipple bleed sluggishly. Michael groans at the splash of colour and licks it up with his tongue. Mallory arches into the contact and tilts her hips into his pelvis, seeking pressure.

“Please, Alpha,” she whines. “Everything hurts. I need, I can’t—” 

“Shhh, greedy girl, I’ve got you,” Michael says sounding amused. “There’s no rush.”

But there is.

She’s burning.

The longer she goes without an orgasm, the hotter the flames licking over her skin.

Michael leans back to undress and Mallory takes the opportunity to roll over onto her hands and knees. She bows her spine and lifts her ass up; presenting for her Alpha.

Michael curses and cups a hand around her dribbling cunt. He rubs the tips of his fingers over her clit and slots his thumb right up against her entrance, playing with the wetness there.

“Look at you leaking for me,” he grates. 

Mallory hears his fingers snap and feels her ears pop with a change in the air pressure. She looks over her shoulder and gets an eyeful of Michael’s pale skin, his clothing completely vanished and gone.

Michael notices her attention and winks. Blue eyes bleed to black again.

Mallory devours the lean the stretch of his torso and drops her eyes down to his cock.

Michael tugs at his shaft and the length plumps up to full hardness under her inspection. When she licks her lips, he murmurs, “Alpha’s desperate little cockslut. Gonna get you ready for my knot.” 

A blunt finger slips inside of Mallory's cunt, twisting and stroking along her walls. Mallory clenches around the scrape of Michael’s ring and rocks in counterpoint to the push of his hand.

Between the slick that she’s producing and the way that he'd stretched her last night, it’s not long before she’s ready for more. Michael fucks a second finger in and then a third.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells her. “Opening up so pretty for me.”

“Please, please let me come,” Mallory chants, waves of pleasure mounting in her gut.

Michael pushes his fingers deep three more times, withdraws and lands a stinging slap to her sex.

Pain jolts from Mallory’s folds to her clit and sends her screaming over the edge.

She’s still jerking with aftershocks, fuck stupid and head hanging down, when Michael flips her over on her back.

Panting for breath, Mallory watches him bring his arousal soaked fingers to his chest. He runs them from his collarbones up his throat to his lips, painting himself with her slick.

Some of the fever blanketing Mallory’s mind retreats with her orgasm. She pushes her way upwards through the lingering haze and blinks clear brown eyes.

“There you are,” Michael says triumphantly, “I want to see your face while I give you my knot. See the surrender in your eyes.”

Mallory spits a wad of saliva in his face. She may need to accept this Alpha, but she doesn’t have to like it. And she’s certainly not giving in without a fight.

Michael’s tongue darts out to touch the spittle at the corner of his lips. He flutters his lashes and sighs.

_The sick fuck. He’s enjoying this._

The Alpha slides his hands slowly up Mallory's calves to her thighs, pulling her limbs up around his hips.

“_Mallory_,” he whispers into her mouth, angling down over her and kissing her closed lips again and again. “Do you want me so much then?”

The head of his cock kisses her entrance, nudging her open a few millimetres.

Of course, Michael would torture her like this. As if her wet, hungry sex weren’t obvious enough.

The Alpha's a sadist. He enjoys making people squirm.

Mallory twists against him and takes another snap at his neck with her teeth, marking the free side viciously.

“Fuck you,” she gurgles, teeth sunk in his flesh. She hopes his bonding marks scar up thick and ugly.

Michael chuckles, “do you want to, Mallory? Do you really?” He pushes his shaft a half-inch deeper. “Just a little bit?”

Heat madness flares, eating at her insides.

Mallory digs her nails into Michael's scalp and snarls, “just fucking fuck me already, Alpha.” 

Michael’s black eyes shine with amusement at her frustration. “With pleasure, Omega.”

Shifting his weight forward on his arms, Michael eases the remaining inches of his cock into her slowly. He keeps his gaze locked on hers. “Oh I like this,” he growls. “I like feeling you yield to me and watching you hate yourself for it.”

Mallory thrashes her head back and forth in denial and moans when he bottoms out completely. The feel of him inside of her is wonderful—a balm against a raging fire.

“Please!” she shouts, her walls contracting around him.

“Fuck,” Michael breathes. His face is severe.

Rolling his hips, he fucks Mallory deep and slow with even thrusts. “_My little Omega_,” he grunts, “you feel so perfect for me. I’m going to fill you up nice and full and fuck an heir up inside your cunt.”

He pinches one of Mallory's nipples the next time that he strokes in, cock angled up to glide right over her g-spot.

Michael holds her there, bruising her nipple and ramming his tip into that spot repeatedly, until it’s nearly too much.

Mallory’s having trouble drawing breath. Her knees are drawn up tight, heels digging into his ass.

The thought of Michael's seed locked up inside of her, trapped by the swelling of his knot is pinging every primal urge stirred up by her heat.

She wants to be claimed, mated, taken brutally.

“Do it. _Do it_. Give me your fucking hell spawn come,” a wrecked voice gasps. Mallory bites her traitorous tongue hard when she realizes that those words came from her mouth. 

“_Bitch_,” Michael whispers to her respectfully. “My rude, lovely little bitch.”

Pushing himself snug inside of her, he lowers his mouth to Mallory's neck and bites deep and true over the spot that he’d worried yesterday. His knot expands then, stretching the thin skin near her entrance as he twitches with the start of his release.

Mallory cries out with each pulse of Michael’s knot and feels her walls ripple with a second orgasm. Wave after wave of his come spurts inside of her, distending her abdomen slightly.

When Michael's balls finish emptying, he switches his hand over to torture Mallory's other nipple and grinds his knot into her g-spot until she's quaking with overstimulation. He lets up after a few seconds to brush helpless tears from her face.

“You’ll come again for me won’t you, my good girl," Michael croons, all praise. "You’ll come one more time on your Alpha's cock.”

Mallory sobs, “n-no. Michael, I can’t.”

She needs a break.

She needs to rest and gather the tattered remains of her psyche, blown apart by her enjoyment of this horrible event.

"Oh yes, Omega. I think you can,” Michael says confidently. He slides a hand between their bodies and fondles the place that they’re tied, churning his knot inside of her and rasping the heel of his palm against her clit.

Mallory loses time for a second.

The crest of this orgasm is almost painful, and brings a surprising wave of emotion. She’s never felt anything like it.

When she comes back to herself, Michael’s still and quiet above her, eyes fixed on her chest.

His lack of movement freaks Mallory out.

“What’s—what’s wrong?” she rasps.

Something trickles down her abused breasts. Mallory looks down and sees thin trails of milky fluid running from her nipples down to her stomach. The fluid pools in her bellybutton and the grooves of her pelvis.

“Michael, what’s happening to me?” Mallory asks, voice cracking with her distress.

The Alpha's mesmerized, utterly absorbed by the fluid beading at her nipples.

“You’re lactating,” he murmurs, swiping a gentle thumb through the droplets. “This is a true blessing, a beautiful gift. I’ve pleased my Omega. You’ve accepted my heir.” 

“What!” Mallory shrieks.

He's done no such thing.

How could he possibly know if she were pregnant or not? He just shot his load inside of her.

The proverbial gun is still smoking for fuck's sake. 

Michael brushes his lips over a pouting nipple and settles in to suckle her offering of milk.

This is fucked up. This is entirely wrong.

She was supposed to have time. Time to fuck Michael over without the complication of a child.

“No, no, no,” Mallory whispers brokenly.

Michael pulls off of her breast and beams. “Yes, yes, yes.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I decided to add another chapter to this one. I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> This picks up five months after Mallory's arrival at the Sanctuary.

Mallory knows that she looks ridiculous waddling through the administrative level of the Sanctuary in nothing but a pair of pajamas, but she couldn’t care less. There are people staring at her, Alpha and Beta members of the Cooperative, which, her state of undress aside, is understandable considering that she’s never visited this level of the compound before.

Since arriving at the Sanctuary, most of her time has been spent in the agriculture sector, learning about the growth cycles of the different plant species nurtured there. It's easy to feel at home among the greenery. If she closes her eyes, she could almost be back in Louisiana, hands sunk in the black soil of Cordelia's garden. 

Mallory ignores the stab of pain that the memory inspires and steals a glance at her audience. She catches sight of her face in the glass of an office door and winces. She’s sweating from the exertion of her walk and her hair has worked itself into a brown mess from all of her rolling around in bed. Quietly, she curses rich Satanists and their need for long ass hallways to intimidate visitors.

It’s in this disheveled, contemptuous state that she happens upon the boardroom in which her wayward mate is meeting with the council. At first, Mallory thinks that he hasn’t noticed her—his view obstructed by the Alpha female currently trying to charm her way into his lap—and she plants her hands on her hips, puffing for breath. Then her gaze catches the subtle flare of his nostrils.

“Mallory, would you like to come in?” Michael drawls. The buzz of conversation cuts out as several pairs of eyes swing toward her.

_God, that voice_. Mallory's knees weaken and her cunt gives an unhelpful gush. Trying to mask the wreckage of her control, she nods coolly at Michael and shuffles forward with the invitation.

The Antichrist surveys her pilfered pajamas with mercenary glee. “To what do I owe this visit from my darling wife?” he asks.

Mallory barely withholds a snort. _Darling wife_ _her ass._

They’d had a formal ceremony after their bonding, the entirety of the Sanctuary’s residents turning up to gawp at their master's Omega bride. Mallory had spoken woodenly when she was told and had slapped Michael when he'd tried to kiss her. Instead of a wedding night filled with passion, she’d demanded that they hammer out the terms of her imprisonment.

The agreement they’d come to was quite simple. Michael didn’t touch her outside of her monthly heats and Mallory didn’t throw the contents of their apartment at him.

The Alpha had been remarkably calm about the whole ordeal.

Face impassive like when she’d first seen him at the Outpost, Michael had stated that since she was already pregnant there wasn’t much use in pretending to like each other. Apparently, he had more important things to do than curry her favour.

For five months they'd managed to maintain a frosty civility. Now, with Mallory approaching her third trimester of pregnancy, things have become…complicated.

Restlessness and melancholy were the first signs that something wasn't quite right with her.

For weeks, she hasn’t been able to get more than four hours of rest a night. Every time she lays down to sleep, a horrible sense of loneliness seeps in to fill the space between her and Michael. Rather than reach out across the chasm in the middle of their King-sized bed, she tosses and turns, thinking about how warm his skin would be against her back and how his hands would feel cradling her belly.

_Is this what Stockholm Syndrome feels like?_ she’d asked herself. _Or is this some kind of seasonal depression? _She’d spent more time underneath the UV ceiling tiles in the apartment just in case. 

The most disturbing development in her condition has been unrelenting horniness.

It’s unbearable. A stiff breeze is quite literally all she needs to get aroused. She’d crossed in front of an air vent the other day and soaked her underwear with slick. If she weren’t already as big as a house, she’d think that she was in heat.

Yesterday, after she’d rubbed her clit raw and come whimpering into Michael’s pillowcase, she’d figured that she should pay another visit to the OB-GYN on staff in the medical wing.

Dr. Baum’s diagnosis was short and to the point: “Bond sickness,” she’d said. Her eyes had widened with amazement at the touch starved Omega on her table. “Quite rare,” she'd gone on, ignoring Mallory’s twisted expression. “You don’t see it often since you’re hardwired to seek your Alpha’s attention.”

Her suggested plan of treatment was for Mallory to quit avoiding her mate. Mallory had almost laughed in the woman’s face until she’d mentioned that much more stress could affect the baby.

That outcome was simply unacceptable. With all of her time spent alone, Mallory's come to cherish her bump and the tiny hell spawn inside. She'll love that baby even if it has leathery wings. Having a mini-me to coddle and teach about the world before the bombs is her only spot of sunshine in this shithole.

Determined to fix this, Mallory had tried non-direct contact first. She'd raided Michael’s closet (hence the pajamas that she’s currently wearing), but his scent wasn’t enough to calm the aching need in her core and in her chest.

Michael clears his throat and Mallory snaps out of her reverie. She realizes abruptly that she’s been scowling at him.

Her Alpha raises an elegant eyebrow at her and her stomach flops. His face is so symmetrical and patrician it’s unfair. _Stupid bastard_.

“I’d like to speak with you,” she says lamely, gaze locking with his. “In private.”

A smirk appears on Michael's face. “I’m afraid that my schedule is rather booked. Since you’ve already interrupted this meeting you might as well proceed with your enquiry.”

The derision in that statement makes Mallory’s cheeks redden. He’s trying to goad her.

“Unless you’re in the habit of relaying what goes on in our bedroom to the council, my _enquiry_ is best kept between mates,” she snaps, voice slightly shrill.

Michael laughs, cruel and mocking. “Now that is an interesting topic of discussion. Has my greedy Omega suddenly found herself in need of a cock to mount?”

The coat rack at his side titters like he’s the cleverest thing since sliced bread.

Mallory narrows her eyes and stalks over to get up in Michael’s face. The female sees her approach and angles herself in front of her master defensively.

“Move,” Mallory says to her, baring her teeth. “Or I’ll make you.”

The female rumbles a growl and tenses to pounce, frame rigid underneath her tailored suit.

“Enough!” Michael barks. The growling cuts out abruptly. “Now’s not the time to be brave, Addison,” he says, waving the female away. “A pregnant Omega will rip your throat out before you can land the first bitch slap.”

“It’s Madison,” the female grits.

“Whatever.”

Dismissed, Madison scurries away and Mallory steps forward to lean into Michael’s space. “Since you’re indisposed,” she hisses, nose inches away from his, “perhaps this greedy Omega should find another Alpha willing to give her his knot.”

Michael graces her with another arch of his brow. His eyes flit over her flushed face as he gets a true whiff of her scent and discovers just how desperate she is. It’s unsettling, the way that he studies her like he can see how she writhed in their sheets before coming here.

“Any takers?” Mallory asks the room at large.

A young Alpha shuffles his feet nervously, like he wants to open his mouth, and Michael burns away his soul with a casual curl of his fingers.

Mallory stubbornly doesn’t react. Michael would like that too much.

She’d gotten used to the screams early in her pregnancy. The first time that she’d ventured out of their apartment, she’d been propositioned by no less than three overambitious Alphas. The bruises on her arms had spelled their doom as surely as their scent on her skin. Her mate was not forgiving of such trespasses.

Mallory remembers the cloying smell of the incense that they’d burned at the Black Mass and shivers with repressed fear. Michael’s own growl rips into the silence of the room at the sudden spike of adrenaline in her scent. He brushes her hair away from her neck and tilts his head down to breathe out over her bonding mark.

It’s like a switch flips. Mallory’s grip on her resentment becomes tenuous as her body clenches with lust. She feels his hot tongue slide over her scar tissue and mewls. “Please, Alpha.”

Michael chuckles. “Needy chit. Go back to our room and I’ll speak to you about your request later.”

Disappointment drops cold and heavy in Mallory’s stomach. She hasn’t pleased her Alpha; he’s sending her away.

Mortified by her thoughts and the urge to drop to her knees and beg, she moves to pull back. Michael catches a piece of her hair before she can flee. His rings glint as he gives the strands a tug.

“Oh, and Mallory?”

She tilts her head to show that she’s listening.

“You’re not to touch yourself until I give you permission.”

_Oh_.

The emotional whiplash is sudden. Her inner Omega preens at the thought of passing a test. “Yes, Alpha,” she whimpers, blush blazing anew.

With the last of her strength, Mallory twists out of his reach and beats a hasty retreat. 

\--

When she arrives back in their rooms, Mallory wastes no time in drawing herself a bath. She needs something, anything to soothe the restlessness that has her wanting to crawl out of her skin.

Tendrils of steam rise up from the massive clawfoot tub and curl the ends of Mallory’s hair. Hot water is a pleasure that she’s certain she’ll never grow tired of. _No more bucket sponge baths for me, _she thinks, lip curling. On her worst days, she hopes that Venable suffered.

The water reaches an appropriate depth and Mallory can’t get out of her clothes fast enough. Tripping on her silky pajama bottoms, she clambers into the bath and sinks down into the water with a throaty groan.

Muscles that she hadn’t realized were tense unkink as she leans back and enjoys the warmth. Her eyes slip shut as she hums, hands floating up to caress the smooth skin of her bump.

For long minutes, Mallory simply relaxes, content to focus on her breathing and the dissipating buzz of anger, adrenaline and arousal in her limbs. She’d been prepared to fight that other female for her Alpha—wouldn’t have hesitated to sink her teeth into her flesh if it meant removing an obstacle between her and her mate.

As she imagines how it would have felt to rend and tear, a perverse thought slithers into her brain. Would Michael have fucked her there? Bent her over the desk and taken her hard and fast next to Madison’s corpse?

Mallory’s breath puffs out as she drops a hand to brush her clit. Excitement engorges the tender bud and fogs her brain.

_He would have._

He’d have been proud of such a display. Of her savagery. He’d have made her look at Madison as he took her, whispering in that silky voice that she needed to feel her wickedness as deeply as his cock.

And perhaps, Mallory thinks—her hand creeping lower as the other comes up to fondle her breast—he’d have given her his knot, tying them together and filling her with come until—

Mallory freezes, fingers stilling where they’d been circling her entrance. _That had been the sound of the apartment door sliding shut._

Humiliation burns through her. She clenches her eyes tighter, shoulders curving with shame, and waits.

“Tsk-tsk,” Michael murmurs, voice coming from above her head. “I leave early to appease you and find you misbehaving.”

Reluctantly, Mallory opens her eyes and turns to look at him.

Michael’s standing behind the tub, staring at her with those ice chips he calls eyes as one hand caresses the ridge of his cock through his black pants. It’s obscene. Mallory can’t look away.

Michael sees her looking back and raises an eyebrow. “My little Omega,” he coos. “Such a greedy slut. What should be done with you?”

Mallory gulps, half afraid and half anticipating. 

“Up,” Michael says, tone clipped. He watches water sluice from her curves as she rises and jerks his head toward the bedroom.

Mallory moves from the en-suite into the bedroom as fast as she can and hovers beside the bed nervously.

“Hands on the mattress. Stick that lovely ass out,” Michael commands.

She bends, spine arching with the movement, and locks her arms to keep from face planting into the bed. Her belly is just large enough to throw off her centre of gravity.

Michael huffs a laugh at her predicament. “Full with my child and still begging for more,” he taunts.

Mallory feels the scorch of his eyes across her backside as he comes to stand behind her.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m suspicious, but I’m not convinced that your performance in the boardroom was genuine.”

“Michael—”

Mallory jolts and cries out as a slap lands hard across her bottom.

“You’ll speak when you’re asked a question," Michael mutters, sounding wholly unaffected. Another harsh slap. He smooths his palm over her stinging flesh and asks, “why did you seek me out today, Mallory? Tell the truth and I’ll forget about punishing you. If you lie, I will know.”

Mallory’s head spins. This isn’t her punishment?

She takes a minute too long to respond and Michael loses his patience. “_Speak, Omega_.”

The Alpha command is impossible to resist. Mallory’s lips move of their own accord. “Needed you,” she confesses, breathing in quick gasps.

“Why? You detest me.” Mallory shudders as Michael scrapes a ring up the bumps of her spine. “I won’t do myself the disservice of thinking that’s changed.”

“I—that’s not true.”

“Lie.” The force of the next slap carries Mallory forward onto her toes.

She takes the pain, teeth clenched, and tries to assimilate her brain with the reality of being swatted like a naughty child. “I just needed you,” she grits.

The next slap makes her sob and shake, the pain morphing into a peculiar kind of pleasure.

“_Why.”_

The compulsion pulls her words out in a nearly unintelligible stream. _“So tired-can’t sleep-need you close-want you inside-need to keep the baby healthy.”_

There’s a pause as Michael considers her answer. An undeterminable amount of time later, he speaks with unexpected gentleness. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

“A few weeks,” Mallory mutters, voice hoarse and arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up.

“Stubborn chit.” Michael plasters himself to her back and kisses the crown of her head. Mallory can’t help her keen at the press of his hardness into her tender skin.

“I realize that our bonding was…unconventional,” he says. 

Mallory snorts. “You manipulated me so that I was complicit in my own kidnapping.”

Michael wraps an arm around her waist and squeezes in warning and affirmation. “I agreed to your truce because your choice was taken the first time, Omega. I realize now that I’ve erred by giving you your space.” Mallory bristles in his hold and he drops a hand to cradle her belly. “Your health and the health of my heir are more important than our pride.”

_Well_. That would almost be sweet if she didn’t know that his care for her extended as far as protecting his property.

Her calves are a minute away from cramping when he hoists her up on the bed.

Mallory curls up on her side and eyes Michael warily. “What are you proposing exactly?”

She knows what she wants, but she’s feeling a little bit vulnerable. He needs to put some skin in the game literally and figuratively before she’ll confess to wanting to be held.

Her eyes are rapt as he unbuttons his waistcoat and shirt with those ringed fingers. She doesn’t know if it’s the prospect of seeing his body again or the idea of being saturated in his touch that’s heating her more.

When he drops the fabric from his torso, the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple attractively. The sight makes Mallory let out a kittenish noise and squirm against the bedsheets. She rubs her thighs together and feels the telltale wetness of slick. 

Michael raises his chin proudly and smirks. The bastard knows how good he looks.

How regal.

How sexual. 

He shucks the rest of his clothes and his boots and crawls onto the bed to sit beside her with his back against the headboard.

Mallory thinks that he’s forgotten her question when—hand palming the length of his cock—he says, “let me be good to you, Mallory.”

_Jesus_. Who would be able to resist such an offer? Certainly not her. 

The hand not working his shaft sneaks into her hair and yanks until she’s looking up at him.

Mallory gazes at Michael through her lashes and moans at the burn in her scalp. “Please,” she gasps.

“On my lap.” The command rolls over Mallory and makes her toes curl.

She sits up and straddles him slowly, her hands on his shoulders. Michael’s eyes fall to half-mast as he stares at her swollen breasts and belly. The plump head of his cock glides against the skin under belly button when she fidgets.

“Beautiful,” he praises.

Mallory cuts her eyes, suddenly shy about her weight on his legs. Michael growls and grips her chin. He skates his other hand down to rub her clit and her brown orbs fly back to his blue ones. 

“Who does this belong to?” he asks.

Mallory bites her lip and thrusts her hips to meet the pressure of his thumb. Loath as she is to admit it, she tells him the truth. “You.”

Michael releases her chin to grip her neck. His fingers tense with the hint of a threat, just teasing the edge of her bonding mark. “Would I own something less than perfect?”

Mallory thinks about how immaculate the Alpha keeps himself and the Sanctuary and shakes her head. “No.”

“Good girl. Now lift up so I can fill that sweet cunt.”

The words set Mallory on fire. Fingers digging into his shoulders, she presses up on her knees so that Michael can position himself at her entrance.

He teases the dip of her sex with his cock until his crown glistens with her slick. “Dripping for me,” he says huskily. “Such a good Omega.”

Her walls flutter, grasping at the broad head that he wedges inside her and Michael laughs. “What’s the magic word, wife?”

“Please, warden?”

Michael pinches her nipple in retribution. He grips her hips to pull her down on his cock, but something pings in Mallory’s brain and makes her stop him.

“Wait, wait,” she gasps. “Shouldn't we be using protection? I don’t want the baby to catch something.”

Michael frowns, eyes darkening with anger. “What are you implying?”

Mallory scowls back at him. _He can’t be serious_. She’d seen the way Madison was fawning over him. There’s no way he’s kept his cock to himself with females like that for the taking. “I won’t do you the disservice of pretending that you’ve been celibate these last five months.”

Michael’s anger rises up from him as a visible shadow, horned and terrifying, and shakes the apartment. He eyes flash liquid black. “Stupid girl,” he hisses. “Clearly no one has taught you about bonding magic.” He forces her down on his cock then, pressing until he’s fully buried inside.

Mallory’s jaw drops open at the stretch. Her natural lubrication keeps it from hurting, but it’s a tight fit. Shock and indignation have her moaning “how could you!” as she struggles in his lap.

Michael holds her in place when she tries to buck her hips off. “How could I? How could I take my mate, my wife, after she suggests that I’ve sullied our bond?” He tweaks her nipple harshly and she clamps down on him so hard that he swears through his teeth.

“Infidelity is poison to a bonded pair,” he growls. “You think you’re sick now, chit, but you’d have been begging for death after the first dalliance.”

Mallory’s having a hard time catching up. It’s not as if she’d been well prepared for life as bonded Omega. Before the apocalypse, it had been very likely that she was going to die alone as a spinster.

She recalls the surprise in Dr. Baum’s eyes when she’d confessed to having no contact with Michael since their bonding and decides that he must be telling the truth. 

“I’m s-sorry, Alpha,” she stutters, now aching to grind her hips and continue his relentless possession of her body. The thought of this male—the destroyer of worlds—being faithful to her has her inner Omega desperate to re-affirm her claim.

_He chose you_, her brain chants. _He wants no one but you. _

“Please, Michael.”

Her frustrated whine has him loosening his hands. “You can show me how sorry you are by bouncing on my cock.” 

She does—awkwardly, at first—but she quickly realizes that she can lean back and get the angle she wants without falling over. Counterweighted in the front, she places her hands above Michael’s knees and swivels her hips in tight figure eights. 

Michael watches her fuck herself onto him with greedy eyes and caresses the heavy curve of her belly. “You’re mine, Mallory." His tone says he's not to be argued with.

Mallory wouldn't dream of it. Lightening sparks up from her middle and tightens her nipples. “Yours,” she groans, breath hitching with each push and drag of his cock against her inner walls. 

The wet sound of their joining is pornographic. Mallory feels her pleasure mount, hot and insistent and tries to reach for her clit. The need to come burns away any embarrassment.

She whines when she can’t reach around her belly and feels her hips begin to falter. She doesn’t have the strength to keep lifting herself.

Despair sweeps into her chest and she sobs, eyes wet. She can’t even do this right.

Michael’s quick to quiet her distress. “Hush, Mallory. My good girl. You did such a good job. Alpha’s got you.” The crooning endearments calm Mallory and the ugly need inside of her. When her sobs taper off, Michael grips her waist with both hands and helps her keep moving.

His gaze flits from the fall of her hair over her shoulders to her bouncing breasts as he slams up into her, his hips finally, finally rolling to give her the depth that she needs.

“Look at you taking my cock,” he pants. “My beautiful Omega. Such a tight clutch. I love you like this, all fat and round with my child.”

He stirs himself to stroke along her upper wall and Mallory’s lids go heavy as rapturous pleasure suffuses her. She’s so full. She can feel him pulsing in her core, feel the connection like a brand in her belly.

She dives forward and buries her face into Michael’s neck, overwhelmed. A hand sneaks between them to strum her clit and she nods vigorously, tear streaked cheeks chafing against his skin.

A few more thrusts, and then—she’s lost. Instinct has her rooting for Michael’s bonding mark and biting down as she flies over the edge.

Michael pounds into her wildly and knots her up while she’s still shaking with aftershocks. Mallory whines as her fluttering hole is stretched to capacity. Like the first time they’d mated, Michael can’t seem to stop himself from reaching down and feeling where they’re joined. He presses at the bulge of his knot through the thin skin around her entrance and purrs with satisfaction.

It’s then, as he’s still emptying himself inside of her, that he tips her head up and claims the kisses that she’s withheld for the past several months. Mallory doesn’t know how long they stay like that, joined, hearts thundering together and teeth nibbling on each other’s lips. Hours might have passed before Michael shifts to settle them on their sides, hitching her leg up over his hip.

Mallory's near sleep when his knot subsides and he slips out of her. The emptiness makes her mewl plaintively. The combination of her slick and Michael’s semen trails down from her opening to coat her thighs and wet the blankets. Michael’s unbothered by the mess. On the contrary, he’s ecstatic. His gaze is possessive as he gathers their release on his fingers and paints her belly with it.

Any Alpha that comes within a ten foot radius of her will know that it was him who'd gotten a babe on her. Mallory doesn't exactly hate the idea. 

“This is where you belong,” Micheal says, gathering her in his arms.

“Belong?” she whispers. Such a loaded word. Could he actually mean it? Actually harbour affection for her and crave hers in return?

“You belong in my arms with our child safe between us.” He sighs, suddenly weary, and stares at her for a few moments. His face is almost…longing?

“I thought you’d never crack,” he mutters. “That the bond was somehow one sided.” He strokes her hair back from her face and presses another slow kiss to her lips. “Can we dispense with the no touching rule now, chit?”

Mallory takes a deep breath to respond and feels herself nod instead. Game over. She’s been drugged on his scent.

“I suppose you’re not half bad when you’re not being a manipulative asshole.”

Michael chuckles. “Bitch.”

Peace somewhat established, they take the time to stroke tentative fingers over each other’s skin. It’ll take time to heal the bond that they’d strained with their obstinance, but they seem to be headed in the right direction.

It doesn’t take long for their exploratory touches to become less innocent. Mallory feels Michael harden against her thigh and fights through her exhaustion to catch a second wind.

She wriggles, eager for another spectacular orgasm and her Alpha smiles slow and wicked. Still grinning, he brings his lips to her ear and whispers, “so, what was my naughty minx thinking about in the bath.”

Mallory swallows. She feels her heart race and levels him with her best dark look. “Well,” she says. “Murder may have been involved.”

Michael’s eyes sparkle triumphantly. “How delicious.”

They don't do much talking after that. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for more crackling tension and smut check out Altered State of Consciousness. Michael is a hive mind entity who's taken an interest in Mallory.


End file.
